


bling bling

by twinhorns (pinklesbian)



Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-24
Updated: 2012-09-24
Packaged: 2017-11-15 00:09:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/520963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pinklesbian/pseuds/twinhorns
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>hot meenah/cronus hate makeouts B)</p>
            </blockquote>





	bling bling

You've got rings on each of your fingers-- gaudy purple and gold things you thought about prawning but instead decide to taunt Cronus with. Everything goes according to plan.

You're now standing face to face and he's getting all shouty at you. He actually looks reely mad.

You grab that stupid "human cigarette" from his lips and throw it to the ground. He starts to say something about disrespect but you cover his mouth with your mouth and he stops his blabbering. You wrap your hands around his horns and pull him closer to you. You bite his lips and taste his purple blood. You tell him he's disgusting and he whimpers. 

You move your hands to his waist and dig your claws into his skin. Motherglubber yelps like a wriggler. You laugh into his teeth and he bites your tongue.

You drag your claws up his sides and he whines again. "This is a little rough for somethin' as red as us, doncha think?" he mumbles, and this time you really laugh.

"Shut your talk-hole, bouy. Even you can't be so delusional as to think I'm actually waxin' red for you."

He furrows his brow and decides he doesn't want to hear none of that, and you two get your mack(erel) on. He grabs a horn in one hand and the other is planted on your hip, his claws lightly scratching you. He starts to get into it this time, and you think maybe this wasn't a horrible decision. 

His blood is starting to dry under your claws. You tear his skin a second time because you love the way it feels on your fingertips. Maybe if he ever does end up committing ghost suicide, you'll watch all the blood drain from his body and bottle it. You can sell it to chumps, but also maybe keep a few bottles to look at and admire. You wonder if he would just end up back here, but double-dead? It would kind of suck to be without a proper kismesis-- if he ever gets it through his think pan that that's what you guys are. Or, rather, will be.

You're pulled out of your daydream by Cronus telling you to "git your clavws out of me." You laugh again (black romance should probably not involve so many giggs) and tell him not to get his achors in a twist. After some confusion, you explain that it was supposed to be a play on knickers, and yeah, it sucked. 

You take the attention off your totally ballin' pun-making skills and kiss him again, but this time on his neck. You leave some pretty violet bruises and teeth marks. You tell him he's beautiful and then you tell him that he's gross. You put your lips to his throat and feel him gulp down air. 

You slip your fingers under the hem of his shirt and splay them across his belly. He's pressed flush against the grey wall of someone's fakey-fake memory of a hive. 

You whisper to his neck that you're going to make him hate you. You're going make him hate you so much he'll see purple. Or maybe he'll see dumb human red. He's got both of his hands around your horns now, and he yanks you up to look at your face.

"I already hate you," he spits, and you toss your head back with laughter. "I'm not talking 'I need a date' hate, Ampora," you snicker. "I mean I'm going to make you wish you had never been hatched because the thought of existing in the same universe as me makes you want to slit your throat from fin to fin." You peck him on the nose. "While still being incredibly attracted to me, of course." 

You slide your hands under the waistband of his pants and he freezes. 

"Vwvwait," he says, struggling with the  _w._ "Do you really hate me that much?" He looks...

Horrified.

You mull it over. "Not yet," you decide, and swvoop back down to latch onto his neck again. He squirms a little and you look back up at his face. You see god damn pansy purple tears welling up in his god damn pansy purple eyes. You have never wanted to smooch him more than you do right now.

So you do. But when he starts to really cry, it kills the mood. You take your hands out of his trousers and huff. Can't catch a break, even in the afterlife.

You'll try again some other time.


End file.
